The Good Hunter
by Vindicare40k
Summary: He was not supposed to exist. Though given what he had seen and knew, existence was a very subjective thing. He cared little for what the others thought, all he knew was that, even when self exiled a dream, a Hunter's work was never done.
1. Chapter 1

_I don't own either PJO or Bloodborne._

 _AN: This is something to help overcome my writer's block/apathy on my other stories by doing something totally different in tone. If this gets good feedback I'll keep updating it, if not oh well._

Dreams. Dreams are one of the most cherished and powerful things in the mortal world. They can inspire people to go out and accomplish task thought impossible by others and can lead to entire empires and regimes, while inspiring others to fight for their freedoms and liberate the oppressed.

Alternatively dreams can fuel to paranoia and fears of others in the form of nightmares. Monsters thought up from the subconscious of the dreamer terrify them as their own mind turns against them. It is in dreams where the past, present, and future all blur together and shun reality in favor of the imagination.

No one knew this better than Morpheus, the god of dreams and Lord of the Subconscious.

The mortals of modern times knew him as the "Sandman" as he was the one to control dreams and influence sleep. In terms of appearance, was a tall man with a long black coat whose face was indistinguishable and would seemingly change whenever looked upon.

Morpheus took it upon himself to regulate and influence the dreams of mortals in order to keep the world in balance, for without dreams what would the world descend into?

Morpheus could control the dreamscape of people, turning pleasant thoughts of fields into horrific images of war. He could put people into deep sleep by simply walking past them. He could send people messages in their dreams and even shape them.

But despite all of this, Morpheus could not explain the current scene he had discovered.

It had been a normal night on Olympus, Zeus was busy ordering him around to cover up mistakes made by the demigods, again. He and Hecate were apparently the only gods capable of solving problems that were not theirs to begin with. In fact most minor gods were subject to whatever an Olympian told them, because that's the way it goes. But enough about his dislike of the Olympians.

He had been putting most of the eastern seaboard to sleep when he felt something that he could only describe as haunting. It was like a ghost ship in a massive sea of dreams, but it was there. It being something that shouldn't exist. It was far off too, like in another plane of existence far off. In a place where there shouldn't be anyone who could dream.

A dream he had no influence in creating. In fact he couldn't feel any Greek magic there apart from one faint whisper. His need for answers was to compelling, and so he teleported to the location of the disturbance.

What he found there would change the face of Olympus forever.

The dreams landscape was very disturbing in Morpheus's eyes. A graveyard surrounded a house on a small hill with beds of flowers growing wherever the stone path that lead up to the house and around the graves didn't touch. The house was a single floored victorian style cottage with the doors and windows open, showing a plethora of bizarre weapons and workshop materials on the inside.

The landscape was floating in a vast sea of clouds and etherealness with only a full moon overhead. A massive oak tree stood in the backdrop as Morpheus could swear that voices and sounds were coming from the graves.

What drew his attention though was a figure sat with its head down on the stairs with a metal cane in its hand. It wore a long black leather trench coat with a red interior and a shoulder cape over a black buckled dress shirt. The gloves it wore were also leather but had a decorative metal cover over the forearms as dark brown cloth pants lead to victorian leather boots. The figure also had a black tricord over its head with an accompanying face mask to prevent Morpheus from seeing whoever this was.

As Morpheus began to walk closer to the figure on the stairs he saw a human sized female doll in a victorian dress with white hair sitting next to the figure, leaning its head on the dark figures shoulder. A smile of content was visible as Morpheus drew closer. As he got within 15 feet of the two the dolls eyes opened as she looked towards him with curiosity.

"Hello. You are a stranger here, no? You must be, after all, the Good Hunter has ended the dream for all save himself." The Doll spoke with sweet and calm salvik accent. Morpheus looked over to the dark figure he assumed to be the Good Hunter and hummed to himself.

He was the source of this dream, yet he was also apart of it in a way very similar to Morpheus's own creations. In fact, just standing this close to the man was intriguing as he gave off a soothing presence very similar to the one Hestia gave off, though not quite as potent.

"I am Morpheus, god of dreams. This place feels….unnatural, how did this come to pass?" Morpheus got right to his question as The Doll looked confused for a moment and then shrugged.

"I do not know, I am merely a doll. A creation of humans. You say you are a god? Then I have a question for you. Do you love your creations?" Well that wasn't an answer, in fact it was no answer followed by a bizarre question.

"Why does it matter if I love my creations? You say you don't know how this place came to be? Then fine, I will ask him." The Doll's eyes saddened as she looked over to the sleeping hunter and put her arm across his chest in a very protective manner.

"I know only that it was the will of the gods that created this place using Old Gherman and that now it is the Good Hunter who keeps it stable. I ask you not to wake him, as he has had a long night and deserves rest." The Doll spoke softly.

"Will of the gods? I had no part in this places creation, in fact the only thing here even close to the gods is the feeling of a half-blood I get from him." Morpheus pointed to the sleeping hunter. He approached the hunter with the intention of forcibly waking him, as he felt his power over dreams did not work here. However the Doll jumped in front of him and held her arms out, blocking his path.

"I will not let you hurt him." She told the god with a voice of defiance. Frowning, Morpheus grabbed her shoulder and tossed her aside a good 10 feet. That would show her he was not in the mood. However, looking upon where the hunter once slept he saw nothing as the stairs were now vacant.

"Don't touch her." A soft, calm, and yet threatening male voice alerted Morpheus to the hunters new location. He was crouched on a patch of grass with the Doll in his arms bridal style as he caught her before she hit the ground.

"She should not have tried and stopped me. Now that you're awake I'll ask you the same question." Morpheus spoke with a large amount of arrogance slipping through.

He was beginning to not like these people, they were infringing on his domain and they were being unhelpful. If he didn't get an answer he liked soon, then both would suffer an eternity of nightmare filled sleep.

The Good Hunter sat The Doll on her feet and made sure she was ok as she gave him a gracious smile. As he turned to face the Greek god, Morpheus saw a bit of auburn hair under his hat and the silver eyes that were staring back at him made red flags go off in his head.

The hunter was clearly a late teenager and, once past the soothing and almost alien like presence he had, he felt like a demigod. But there was only one god that had auburn hair and silver eyes, in fact the kid being called Good Hunter made it even more suspicious. You see the one Greek god that would fit those categories would be Artemis, goddess of the moon and hunt.

The problem was, she was supposed to be a virgin goddess, one of three. While one of the Big Three breaking their oath of not having kids was not shocking, this was.

That was an understatement even. This was earth shattering.

Morpheus mind raced as he tried to process what he was seeing as the hunter stood across from him, staring with eyes of a predator. Gone was the soothing feeling and in its place was one telling ever flight or fight reflex Morpheus had to run before this kid-, man, decided to kill him.

"Who was your mother?" Morpheus stuttered out after coming back from his shock. Maybe it was just a coincidence? Maybe this kid knew both parents and they just happen to give him silver eyes and auburn hair.

"Never knew. Dead along with my father would be my guess." Well….shit. Morpheus had two choices here, he could press on about his original reason for visiting or he could leave and bring back someone who needed to answer some pretty big questions. Deciding that the latter was more important he spoke back to the hunter.

"I'm sorry for your loss. Now I think we got off on the wrong foot here. I'll tell you what, I will go grab a friend of mine to come here with me and we will have this conversation in a far more polite manner. Don't worry she probably would attack me if I did anything to you guys because…...well it's a feeling I have. Now do you have a way for me together again because this place was only on my radar very briefly." Morpheus asked as the Good Hunter glared at him. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small yellow piece of paper with a rune etched on it.

"Use this to return." With that the Good Hunter looked back to The Doll and motioned her to go inside the house. Morpheus watched the two walk off as the hunter used the cane to help walk. For a man with an apparent leg issue, he had moved faster than Morpheus could see, making the god suspect the legitimacy of the injury.

Looking at the rune and eyeing it over Morpheus sighed as the approaching conversation was not going to be pleasant. In fact he should probably make sure that Artemis was in her camp before confronting her as to use her hunters as a shield. With that plan in mind Morpheus disappeared in a bright golden flash.

xxxxxXXXXxxxxx

To say Artemis was nervous would be a massive understatement. Ever since she woke up this morning she had this constant feeling something bad was going to happen. Not bad as in an attack, but bad as in life altering. She had been on edge the entire morning which resulted in unwanted questioning from her hunters, which she waved off as her brother Apollo being annoying.

But now, oh now she could practically feel the warning lights in her head going off. She was in the middle of her camp too! If anything this should be the safest place for her. As Artemis looked around for any danger she saw a flash of gold emit from her tent. Seeing as none of the other hunters saw this, as they were busy eating dinner, she excused herself and hastily walked into the tent.

Out of everyone she was thinking of being here, Morpheus was not among them.

"Hello Artemis." The tall dream god greeted. She immediately eyed him with suspicion as he damn well knew about her rule on males in the camp.

"Morpheus. What are you doing here?" She demanded as she watched the god while on extreme edge.

"Oh you know, I was in the neighborhood and decided to stop by." At the lack of reaction from his attempt to lighten the mood Morpheus just right to the point.

"I know about your son." No sooner as the words left his mouth did Artemis's fist connect with it. The goddess glared at him with untold fury as she made sure no one outside heard him.

"Shut your mouth! What if someone hears you? And how do you know about that? He's off with his father in another dimension." She told the dream god.

"Well that's not true, the boy says his father is dead. And from what I saw, he definitely has some issues." Morpheus said as he rubbed his jaw. Artemis's eyes widened at the news as she then looked towards the ground distraught.

"Marcus is dead? But….how? He was a very capable mortal, more than skilled enough to at least defend our son." Morpheus shrugged and pulled out the paper he had gotten.

"How about you ask him yourself?" Morpheus held out the paper as eventually Artemis's desire to see her son after 17 years and find out what happened to the man she fell in love with won over her need to follow the ancient laws.

Grabbing the paper both gods disappeared in a flash of light leaving a vacant tent behind.

xxxxxxXXXXXxxxx

The Good Hunter sat on the steps outside Gehrmann's workshop waiting for the supposed god to return. If this Morpheus and his tag along tired to harm the one thing he had left to care about again…..he would kill both without hesitation.

Now most would consider claiming to be able to kill a god arrogant beyond belief, but such was not the case for the Good Hunter. He had killed gods before. In fact he killed all of the gods that he had encountered. Powerful beyond all reason they may have been, but the Good Hunter was still skilled enough to kill them, and then use their essence to increase his own capabilities.

Such was the way of The Hunt and the terrors it brings.

And so the Good Hunter sat in silence, something he did on the regular, with the Holy Moonlight Sword in hand, ready to rend the life out the gods should the need occur. His trusty cane at his side ready in case he needed more finesse than the sword was capable of. Evelyn sat underneath his coat, loaded and ready to fire.

"Good Hunter. You are troubled?" The Doll asked. She was the last thing he held dear, all the others were either dead or long since gone from his life. That is why he kept the Hunter's Dream alive after slaying the Moon Presence that created it. He did not want to lose her as well.

"No." He responded. He found himself talking less and less through his night in The Hunt, and as such he found little use for his voice barring the occasional conversation.

"Then why do you grip your sword so? As if you expect nothing but hostilities?" The Doll asked out of naive curiosity.

"Attacked you last time. Won't happen again." The Good Hunter said with finalization as the gods shimmer into existence outside one of the many tombstones. Whereas the gods he dealt with appeared alien and bizarre in nature, these gods only seemed to be entities of light and energy.

The one named Morpheus looked to be the cosmos swirling in mass with particles of sand dripping off of him as he walked. This new one was shinning silver, much like a full moon, and was much shorter in stature with antlers coming off its head.

As the two figures approached the Good Hunter stood and gave a formal bow. Neither returned the favor.

"I've returned. This here is Artemis, goddess of the moon and hunt." The entity named morpheus gestured to the silver mass. He could feel its gaze upon him like a hawks, but without the hostile intent. In fact in felt sad, like it had just seen something that broke it's heart.

"Greetings Artemis. Now Morpheus, why have you come here?" The Good Hunter asked. Morpheus went to speak but was cut off by the moon goddess as she began to rattle off questions.

"How did Marcus die? Who raised you? Why are you here? Just….just what happened?" Artemis got more and more distraught as she stared at her son.

Morpheus may not have noticed everything wrong with the way he looked, but she was far more observant than most. First of all, he reeked of blood. Not just minor blood, but it was as if he was drenched in it 24/7, meaning he has killed, and killed a lot. Secondly, the cane at his side was not an ordinary metal cane. It was silver bladed on the sides and had a serious point to it, it was a weapon made to look like a cane.

Thirdly, the soothing presence that he gave off was not natural to him, it was like he had something elses blood pulsing through his veins. And lastly the blade in his hands was not something her and Morpheus should let hit them. Ever.

"Father died a long time ago, murdered by his own knights. Local assassins raised me. I want to be. A lot." The Good Hunter answered each one of the silver ones questions. Morpheus seems focused on the nature of the Dream while she was solely focused on him. For a reason the hunter couldn't quite deduce.

"Good Hunter, perhaps they might understand better if you show them? After all, what words would be able to describe the events of your trancention?" The Doll suggested. The Good Hunter stared at The Doll and nodded.

"I will show my experience in The Hunt and then maybe you will have the answer you seek." The Good Hunter's hand glowed bright silver as both Morpheus and Artemis bore witness to his memories of The Hunt.

What they saw would haunt them for the rest of their immortal existence.

They saw a sickly boy, whom they assumed to be the hunter, get a blood transfusion in a city called Yharnam.

They saw occult like horrors and vicious beasts consume the city as the hunter slept.

They saw The Good Hunter awake and be killed by a massive werewolf, only to be sent to this dream than Tartarus.

They saw the hunter obtain his gear and cane as he then killed his way through the city, butchering hundreds and fight colossal monster straight from the deeps of Tartarus. Using their blood to empower himself and his trick weapons.

They saw his relationship with The Doll expand into something akin to love as The Good Hunter helped her feel emotions and eventual slayed her former self inside a nightmare. Granting her peace.

They saw the hunter kill celestial entities that H.P. Lovecraft would be hard pressed to think of as he descended into madness, yet received a great insight on his world on the gods who controlled it.

Finally they saw The Good Hunter, who in the course of one long eternal night killed all of these Great Old Ones and eventually did battle with his mentor Gehrmann the First Hunter and the Old One that controlled the dream.

Snapping out of the flashes the two gods stared at the man that had laid waste to the equivalent of several armies of monsters. The blade in his hand and the cane to his side suddenly seemed far more threatening to the two. The fact he killed several reality warping gods didn't help other.

"Morpheus, leave me alone with my son." Artemis told the dream god. He didn't need to be told twice as he flashed out of the dream. Artemis eyed her son wondering where to begin.

She never knew him growing up, in fact from what she saw she couldn't even try and pull a motherly connection card. He seemed too far gone for it. So with a heavy heart she walked over to his spot on the stairs and sat down next him.

They sat in awkward silence as The Doll watched on with a happy expression, totally unaware of the internal struggle of the goddess. She couldn't'-...she wouldn't leave her son to wallow in this hell hole with an inanimate object the sole thing keeping him company.

"I'm so sorry." Was what she managed to start off with.

"Why?" The Good Hunter asked in a low voice.

"I…...I know this won't mean much to you at this point, hell I don't even deserve to call myself this. But…..you're my son. There are ancient laws among the gods preventing us from raising our children, so when I had you, I was forced to leave." Artemis spoke with tears welling in her eyes. This was her only blood child, and she left him. She just watched the effects of that decision play out in front of her eyes, and they were horrific.

"...Small matter." Was The Good Hunters response.

"Small matter? You do realize that what happened to was-"

"Not your fault. I was inflicted with a disease that brought me here."

"But still….." Artemis began and then stopped.

"What do you look like?" The question from her son threw her off. He wasn't blind as far as she could tell, in fact from the memories he had even better senses than most.

"What?"

"The Doll told me what Morpheus looked like, a tall faceless man. I can not see whatever form you take due to what I know. No amount of hiding behind illusions and forms will prevent that." The Good Hunter informed her.

"Umm...I take the appearance of the average age of my Hunters. I usually keep my hair auburn and my eyes silver, like yours." She told him.

"Hunters…...your followers, or worshipers?"

"They are maidens who swear oaths to me. In exchange for immortality they must remain virgins and swear off men. They are like my adoptive daughters." Artemis informed her son. Speaking of the Hunters she realized that they would find her son's existence to be…...confusing. She was their matron, a virgin like them, how could she have a son?

"So my sisters then?" The Good Hunter inquired.

"Yes...but I don't know how they would react to you. You…,well you shouldn't exist technically. I had taken an oath to remain a virgin goddess." The Good Hunter looked over towards her, his eyes exact copies of hers, and stood without breaking eye contact.

"Small matter." He said as he went inside the workshop and returned with a wooden crate in hand. Placing them on the ground Artemis looked in and saw many tiny silver bells with ornate engravings on them.

"Give these to them." He spoke as he sat back down.

"What are they?" She inquired. Honestly her sons quiet nature was kind of a creepy, even to her. Too much dealing with Apollo and her other male family made have this schema on what a male this age was like. Her son decided that he was not that.

"A call for help. For when they needed and you are not there. I may have never met them and they may not like me, but it is a brother's job to protect his siblings is it not?" Artemis stared at the box of bells and grabbed them as she stood.

"Come with me. This place is not good for you." She tried to reason with him.

"...This place is me." With that her son stood and walked once more into the shop, only this time he did not reemerge.

"Do not worry over The Good Hunter, he may seem strange to you but that is simply his nature. He will come if the bells are rung, and with his arrival, yours and your Hunters enemies will fall." The Doll told Artemis as it began to walk through the graveyard surrounding the house.

Giving the workshop one last look, Artemis vanished in a flash of golden light.

xxxxxxxxXXXxxxxxxxx

 _4 months later_

Zoe Nightshade was in great pain.

The Lieutenant of Artemis was slowly dying from the poison of Laddon and her father, the titan Atlas beating of her and her fellow companions was not helping.

Her mistress had been captured and so she, along with another hunter and some demigods from Camp Halfblood were given a quest to go and rescue her. They were dangerously close to failing.

She was mortally wounded, her fellow hunter Bianca had died, the black haired daughter of Zeus Thalia Grace was busy with the traitor son of Hermes Luke Castellan, and Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon was receiving just as bad of a beating as she was.

Artemis lay trapped under the weight of The Sky as all hope seemed lost until she remembered something in her possession. Something she had only used once before and refused to use it since.

Reaching into her back pocket Zoe pulled a small silver bell out and gave it a ring. He father's javelin was flying towards her, intent on ending her life.

It would never reach her.

The thrown projectile was batted aside by a metal cane as a figure she both loathed and felt jealous over stood in front of her.

Her ladies _SON._ Someone who should never existed but did.

She may have loathed him any other time, but now? Now she was just grateful that his only gift to the Hunters was one that was actually useful.

"Who are you?" Her father spat in confusion. Her ladies son looked passed him and saw his mother imprisoned under the weight of the world. Literally.

He spoke no words to him. He never spoke at all from her brief experiences. Never had the need apparently.

He shot towards the titan with more speed than either she or her father expected as he embedded the can into Atlas's shoulder. The Good Hunter, a name her ladies son was referred to, dashed out of Atlas's striking range before he could retaliate and slammed the cane into the ground.

The metallic edge twisted and revealed the weapon to be a whip as well as he slashed the titan across the chest again.

The battle persisted with that pattern for a time, all the while Percy crawled over to Artemis and took the Sky from her.

Atlas was not able to hold off both her lady and her son as the two silver eyed people tore into her father with blades.

Her vision was starting to give way as the poison was coursing through her veins. She blacked out after she reached her threshold and waited for the poison to claim her.

Again, it never did.

The chiming of a bell woke her as she felt the poison be removed from her body by some magical means unknown to her. Looking up she saw The Good Hunter standing with a bell in his hand as Atlas was once more trapped under the sky. Artemis sat besides her and embraced her when she saw she was fine.

The Good Hunter gave her a tip of the hat and walked out of the cave, disappearing in a cloud of mist. She gazed to where he had been and found herself ever thankful of his existence as it allowed hers to continue.

"Who was that?" She heard Percy ask as he limped over to the two, an injured daughter of Athena named Annabeth in hand.

"That was Galahad Jager the Good Hunter, Son of Artemis, Slayer of Beasts, Master of Trick Weapons and Protector of Hunters."


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I don't own either PJO or Bloodborne._

Existence. Existence is defined as the state or fact of existing, or being. To question whether or not something should exist or not calls into question one's own views and perceptions upon the world. That fact alone make the act of questioning existence a dangerous one as it will almost always incur the wrath or attention of those who do not share the viewpoint of the accuser.

Such was the case Thalia Grace and Percy Jackson found themselves in.

It mattered very little that she had just sworn an oath to Artemis to become one of her Hunters to avoid the prophecy that lumed over her and children of the Big Three.

She was still being threatened with destruction due to simply being born.

The Olympians were currently voting on killing her and Percy, with her and her cousins dads not allowed to vote due to biases. All in order to prevent of prophecy they couldn't control, and for a reason they couldn't control. Life was very fair.

Thankfully though, they appeared to have majority in living.

"If we destroy heroes who do us a great favor, then we are no better than the Titans. If this is Olympian justice, I will have none of it." Artemis spoke to the gathered as she voted against killing them. Zoe Nightshade stood to her side looking at her with a investigative stare.

Probably trying to figure out why she would join the Hunt when she spent most of their time together arguing against it.

Well fighting and attempting to kill your former best friend, who has tried to murder you on several occasions, tended to change one's views.

Thinking back on the fight in Atlas's lair she couldn't help but think of the strangely kid who, was apparently, the child of Artemis.

Hell that should have been the topic being discussed, not her and Percy. Last she had checked Artemis was still on the 'Virgin Goddess' list. But now that was not the case.

"Enough. Thalia Grace and Percy Jackson shall both live. However there is another matter that needs to be discussed." Zeus's voice echoed through the room as all of the gods turned and looked at Artemis. Silence reigned throughout the hall as her Lady was doing her best to look preoccupied with some dirt under her nail as Apollo decided to break the silence.

"SINCE WHEN DID YOU HAVE A KID! AND WHY WAS I NOT TOLD!?" The Sun god screamed as loud as he could. He had a little nephew, from his little sis, and was not informed!? That hurt far worse than any punishment from Zeus could.

Though to be fair to the King of Olympus, when he found out he was shell shocked for a good hour. The idea of his little girl having a son was too much for him.

"Indeed. When did you have this child, and why were we not informed?" Hera spoke with a sneer. Artemis breaking her oath was something she never would have called happening. To say she was upset with her was a drastic understatement.

"I didn't tell anyone because it was no one else's business but my own. I don't go meddling around in your affairs, I expect the same in return." Artemis said with a large amount of frustration. She knew this was coming, but even then her family was a massive pain to deal with.

"Oh no, you don't get to pull the "I don't ask, so you don't ask" card! I want details! What was the father like!? Was he a brooding prudish hunter like yourself, or was he a walking ball of color and liveliness! Oh I just have to meet the man who one over your cold heart." Aphrodite gushed from her throne. She had dreamed of this day, and now it was here! She would make sure to cherish every moment of it.

"I agree with Aphrodite. Well…...no, I mean,... I want to meet this man." Athena spoke from her spot in the room. She was honestly curious about the guy who won Artemis's heart, and not for the same reasons as Aphrodite. It was more of a study perspective than a romantical one.

Most of the other Olympians agreed as they demanded to know who the dad was.

"You can't. He died about 15 years ago." Artemis informed the Olympians with a large amount of sorrow in her voice. Everyone present looked visible hit from that as they tried to think of something to say. Hermes would speak whatever one thought though.

"...Awkward."

"If the father died, then who took care of the child?" Poseidon inquired from his throne. Honestly this conversation was giving him the 'Abandon ship' vibe. One that would rear its head when the current topic of discussion was going down a bad road.

It mostly popped up in arguments with his wife.

"I-...I don't know for certain. I know very little about my sons life. All I can tell you about his upbringing was it was done by a group of assassins." Ares let out a large laugh at that as the more sympathetic gods glared at him.

"...Would he be able to tell us more? After all, his existence is quite…...startling." Athena inquired.

Thalia and Zoe both looked at Artemis with worry as the goddess took out a silver bell, in fact it was the exact same as the one Zoe had. With the bell being rung, a sepulchral tone filled the air as a portal seemingly made from the cosmos appeared in the middle of the room.

The sound of a metal cane hitting the marble floor echoed as the dark dressed figure of Galahad entered the room.

Standing next to Percy, the older boy's presence was a strange combination of a soothing calm and a promise of death. In fact that feeling, well one of them, was only ever generated by one Olympian. Hestia.

"Tell me you didn't break your oath as well sister." Hera looked over to the hearth goddess.

"No, I havn't. But this is still quite strange." Hestia spoke looking at The Good Hunter. The child was looking around the throne room, assessing everyone present for weakness.

"Tell me boy, what happened that Artemis found the need to bring you here? How did your father pass and where did you learn to fight?" Zeus looked down at the hunter. The silver eyed man stared blankly forward giving no signs of confirmation. The silence was quite poignant as most of the Olympians began to see past the calming sensation he gave off and into a being essentially drenched in blood.

xxxxxxxXXXXxxxxxx

Galahad was not impressed with the Olympian throne room, or even the Olympians themselves for that matter.

The masses of energy he saw them as varied based off each one's domain, with the kings being that of a storm cloud.

They had called him here to ask questions, questions he didn't feel like answering due to them not having any relation with himself or his mother. Well in his mind no relation, maybe there was one in theirs he was unaware of.

And so he was asked by Zeus to relay events of his life to the gathered crowd. So be it.

"My father, Lord Marcus Jager, was murdered by his own knights in a political power struggle that resulted in me exiled from my home and left on the streets." He figured that was a good way to start.

"...Oh my, I'm sorry for your loss." The one formed of fire that sat next to the hearth spoke.

"You did not kill him." He responded with very little emotion. Honestly his dad died when he was 4, he had gotten over it. Besides he wouldn't be who he was today without that murder. The boy standing next to him gave him a look of shock, as did the black haired girl near Zoe, apparently they found his lack of care shocking.

"Afterwards the ones who found me educated me in the art of assassination. In doing so they found I was naturally gifted in killing, be it animals they would have me hunt or people I was told to kill." The Good Hunter continued. He couldn't name any of the people who "raised" him as they never gave him one. It was always either a nickname or just their gender.

"I later was afflicted with a plague that could not be cured by the doctors on hand, and as such they sent me to the city Yharnam, a place known for its curative blood transfusions. It was there I found myself."

"What does that mean?" The entity composed of wheat of flowers asked. The mood in the room had changed into one of extreme tension as he could tell they were unnerved by his apathetic admission to killing.

When one spends most of their life performing an act deemed to be wrong, they grow desensitized by it, hell they even find comfort in the familiarity at some points.

And that was his life. Whenever a he held a weapon, especially a bow or a knife, it became apart of his person, an extension of his will.

A will that, until The Hunt, was never his. The constant orders from the people who took him in made sure he only was ever focused on the target they gave. When he woke in the land of monsters that was Yharham, there was no orders, no instructions on where to find some scum noble, just him and the beasts of the city.

And so in the first time in his life, he killed for himself. He killed for his own values, his own views, his own survival. He was not Galahad Jager the weapon.

He was Galahad Jager, Slayer of Beasts and Kin, and Hunter of Hunters. The last title holding immense irony to him now given his self appointed protection of Artemis's Hunters.

So the flower girl wanted to know what he meant? She couldn't possibly understand, no one ever could.

"Exactly what I said." He spoke to the gathered.

"Hey. No need to be rude. She just asked you a question." The boy to his side said to him. He was hardly being rude, in fact he was being rather cordial at the moment.

"My manners have been very well kept. Otherwise I would have left by now." He educated the boy.

"...Uhh dude you've been nice and all, but uh…...you're kinda acting like a….hmmm…..a Hades." The bright one spoke from its throne. He didn't know what a Hades was, but given his mother's beating of the bright one, he figured it was bad.

On the other hand an insult typically was derived from old pretenses and stereotypes, both things he had learned are better left unused.

"While I may not have used Apollo's wording, he is correct in his assessment." The mass of water spoke.

"Then I apologize for the inconvenience and advise you to be less bothered by it." He responded.

"...Dear why don't you head back now. We have some final things to go over but they should be boring." Artemis tried to get her son to leave before he pissed everyone off.

"Alright. I was busy hunting a beast anyways." Galahad replied as he turned and began to walk off.

Just before anyone could inquire about the beast in question he vanished in cloud of dark dust with the cosmos visible in it. The room was quiet for a good couple of seconds until a loud slurping was heard.

"I like him." Dionysius said taking a swig from his coke.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Outside of an abandoned lumber mill in upstate Washington two children around their mid teens stood outside the door watching into the wilderness. Their dark clothing and paranoid nature was readily apparent to any passing by, which no one was.

These were two demigods under service to Luke Castellan, and by proxy Cronos.

They were acting as doormen while their friends had a conversation with the Chimera in persuading it to their cause. A task they had no doubts would succeed.

"Why do we get the crap jobs?" The girl asked. She was a daughter of Eris, goddess of discord, and as such had no cabin at the camp that claimed to be for people like her, yet treated her like a second rate citizen.

"I don't know. Maybe…,uh maybe they don't like you?" The boy, a son of Ares, spoke. While he did have a cabin, Luke had been rather persuasive on why he should leave and help topple the Olympians. Something he had no issues with.

"Ass. Hey do you have any gum?" The girl asked.

"Uhhh….no." The boy lied. In truth he had half a pack he just didn't want to share.

"Lair. I saw you with one earlier."

"Then why ask?"

"Because it manners! Now give me a piece before I cause the ground under your feet to turn into a pothole." The girl threatened. Eris gave her children some interesting powers, and discord took many forms.

"Alright, alright, sheesh." The son of Ares handed his gum over rather reluctantly and began to stare off into the distance.

Political thoughts began to fill his mind as he thought of what they would do after they toppled Olympus.

Incidentally the only filling his fellow guards mind was an arrow.

The sound of metal hitting metal cause the child of war to look over and see his friends head pinned to the wall, a black arrow through her eye socket.

Turning towards the direction of the arrow he had little time to try and spot the shooter as a second arrow entered his throat.

He dropped to the ground and began to gargle on his blood. Clinging to life he began to reach for his sword as he could make out footsteps approaching.

The figure that loomed over him haunted him in his last moments.

A man with a beaked mask and all black scarecrow hat was covered in a cloak of black feathers whilst holding a bow seemingly made from two halves of a sword blade.

The figure prevented him from grabbing his sword with its foot and released another black arrow into his skull. Killing him instantly.

As his soul was sent to Tartarus he would soon be joined by all his fellows in the lumber mill. Some killed by arrows, other by a massive knife that transformed into two. One poor sod was impaled on a hook and was left to hang in order to bait others out.

But truly the most horrific was their negotiator. The son of Apollo was mentally tortured, screaming about how 'The crow would kill us all!'. The figure allowed him to suffer like that whilst it destroyed the Chimera and then returned to him.

It field dressed him like a deer and took most of his blood and bottled it for some messed ou reason. Worst part was, he was kept alive for all of it.

Eventually though the figure took pity and simply ripped out his heart with its bare hands.

The rapid deaths would cause the son of Ares to wonder what kind of monster did it take to do all of this? And if it was with the Olympians or on its one mission.

xxxxxxXXXXxxxxx

Galahad for the first time since ending the dream felt like himself.

Having adorned the garb of the Hunter of Hunters and Simon's Bowblade he tore through the children that thought they could get between him and his prey.

Sure none was older than 18 but that was their choice and they would have to die with it.

The Chimera was not even a little threat, the Knights of Cainhurst offered way more of a fight than it, so he was rather disappointed.

But the blond boy's blood was interesting, so he decided to take it for himself, at least to examin.

Now though, he prepared funeral pyres for all of the deceased as he did not believe burial was an appropriate means of getting to an afterlife.

So there he stood, in the middle of a forest with an entire clearing of funeral pyres burning, content with his works and doings.

xxxxxXXXXXxxxx

Hades was a man of conviction, of will, and most importantly, and unlikely, family.

Oh he despised most things with a passion, but family he could only find massively annoying. Even his brothers, whom he considered to be the worst examples of people, and given who he dealt with that was saying something.

But they were not the issue. No, someone far more important was.

The damned Son of Artemis. "Protector of Hunters".

The title made him sick. Where was he when Bianca, his daughter and member of The Hunt was killed? Nowhere, that's where. He let it happen.

And so he would pay for the grief it brought him, and his son Nico whom he had recently taken from that camp.

Problem was, how to do it? He was watching him while plotting how best to proceed.

Monsters would be killed too easy, same with demigods. The undead at his command would more than likely fall just as well. He could try mass numbers but that would draw too much attention.

He needed someone strong enough to fight The Good Hunter, and not attract attention while doing so.

So there Hades sat in contemplation. He would have brooded for hours but as Fate would have it Thanatos would come to his rescue.

"My lord, we could use one of The Stubborn." The darked skinned angel of death offered.

The Stubborn. There was a group he hadn't thought of using. Mostly because he refused to keep them in the Underworld and instead cast them into a different land all together. Thinking of the group a sinister grin emerged on Hades face as he turned to his subordinate.

"Fetch me the Ashen One."


	3. Chapter 3: Fear

_Disclaimer: I don't own either PJO or Bloodborne_

 _AN: So, yeah, a lot of life stuff kinda popped up these last few months and drained me of energy to write. Feeling better now though so ideally the next update won't take as long._

Fear. Fear is the feeling or belief that something or someone is dangerous and likely to cause you pain. It was the source and fuel for a great many rises of dictators and tyrants who used the emotion for their own nefarious purposes. Fear would make people panic, suspicious, hate, and act without reason when under its effects.

Fear was something Galahad had long since forgotten the feel of, yet still knew how to use with ruthless efficiency.

The horrors of Yharnam and the events that occurred on The Hunt would affect anyone. Some were driven mad, stuck in loops of insane rambling and longing for an end. Others would use brutal violence as a means to combat their fear, killing and destroying anything the felt fear towards, succumbing to the beast that lurked within all.

The men and women that became Hunters? They braved their fears and combated both the madness and violence that consumed others on that night. To them fear was a tool, a resource to manipulate against not only your enemy, but yourself. To sever yourself from fear meant that the horrors and monstrosities that consumed the night would have no sway on your ability and they would die starring at your impassive face, knowing you thought them only as prey.

Fear was something Galahad had honed to a fine point that could demoralize and scatter even the most hardy of foes. Unfortunately for his current prey, fear was Galahad's preferred tactic when dealing with demigods.

A son of Hecate, who had sided with Kronos, ran through a construction zone in the dark of night, fleeing from an invisible attacker that butchered his comrades as they sought to recruit more followers.

He had heard nothing as arrows tore into his friend's with unnatural accuracy, turning them into pincushions drenched in blood. He only escaped by the virtue of his girlfriend shielding him from an arrow aimed at his throat. She died choking on her own blood as he fled.

But his attacker was quick, cutting off any available escape route with arrows or the various machinery around the area, luring him further into the amassed concrete pillars and the heavy machinery.

Turing and making a sprint for the gate the child of Hecate saw more of the damned black silver arrows cut off his path. Trying another path he shot to the left to take a small dirt tunnel in hope in would lead him away from this nightmare.

It would only serve as a source of more terror in his final moments.

In the dirt and metal hall he saw the bodies of his fallen comrades and his deceased girlfriend hanging from nooses of chain, their faces contorted into expressions of fear.

He stood motionless, petrified with terror, wondering what manner of monster was hunting him.

He would not have to wait long to find out. A thud from behind him and the sepulchral jingle of a bell made the hairs on the demigods neck stand even more as he realized what was after him.

The Good Hunter. The most feared demigod in the world at the present time.

The stories surrounding the child of Artemis were nothing short of horror stories, complete with tales of butchery and slaughter that made even the most hardened children of Ares sickly green. Stories of blood rituals, with the use of Lovecraftian like magic, accompanied by tools that warped reality and changed nature was known among everyone, from the lowest monsters in Tartarus, to the demigods on Earth, to the King of the Sky on Olympus. All were aware of what the presence of The Good Hunter meant.

Death was coming for you, and the sinister bells beckoned his arrival.

Rumors were amiss that the Olympians would send Galahad after certain targets, things they thought might pose as threats to their rule.

The truth of the matter was far more twisted than the simple use of a child hitman.

The reality that surrounded Galahad's hunts of demigods and monsters was not one of fealty to Olympus. But one of demented and psychotic enjoyment out of the kills. The terror in the eyes, the cries of horror, and the ultimate teary eyed acceptance that they were going to die all gave Galahad a joy in what he did. He was very aware that such mind sets were not held by "stable people", but he had not been stable in a very long time.

His time in the night of the Hunt drove him, as it did so many others to madness. But being the strong willed person he was, he did succumb to the ravings that plagued others. No, he learned from it and channeled his madness into his killings.

Something the Son of Hecate was about to realize first hand.

Turning around the sight of a male figure dressed in a black, crow feather adorned garb with a beak mask and black hat scarecrow hat stalked towards him with a curve ended short sword in hand. The sight of the man who had killed hundreds, all in horrific manners, over the past few months sent the demigods fight or flight sense into overdrive as it screamed 'Run'.

But he wouldn't. No, he would brave his fear and use it in conjunction with the anger of his friends deaths to kill this bastard.

"Die you son of a bitch!" He screamed as he tossed a bolt of magic energy at the Hunter. Before it could hit though, the son of Artemis disappeared in a cloud of smoke and vanished from view. Panicked at the disappearance the child of Hecate looked around the hall of bodies for the figure.

"You failed us." The sudden talking that came from the hanging bodies definitely caught him off guard as they began to talk in union.

"You failed. You ran. You're a coward. You left us to die." The bodies repeated over and over again. The constant reminding of his cowardice and inability to fight began to push the demigod over the edge as he began screaming back at the bodies.

"I had no choice! You told me to run! You left ME!" He shreked at the corpses. The world began to spin as all he could focus on was the bodies and their insults.

Over and over they insulted him. Over and over he justified himself. After what felt like ages the demigod finally snapped.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME!"

A sepulchral bell chimed from behind was the last thing the son of Hecate heard before a hand ripped his heart out through his back. His vision became instantly dark as he fell face first into the dirt, joining his friends among the pile of corpses.

The construction crew that would arrive in 2 hours would never find a trace of what happened. No footprints, no blood, no bodies, nothing. The events that occurred would never be known to the mortal world, yet the impact they had on the hidden one would further cement an already accepted idea.

The Good Hunter, Galahad Jager, Son of Artemis, and Protector of The Hunt was not an entity to be trifled with.

xxxxxxXXXXxxxxxx

Since the 3 months of joining the Hunters of Artemis Thalia Grace had learned some pretty interesting things. She was taught numerous survival skills, trained in archery, though she was still pretty bad at it, and would have lessons from more seasoned hunters on what plants did what and how to identify tracks. But there was one lesson in particular she learnt the hard way.

Don't challenge Galahad to a spar.

She had figured due to the anti-boy rule and general dislike of that sex in the camp she would had been supported by her sisters when she said she wanted to see how she would fair against the son of her mistress. She was meet with a universal laughter and a sarcastic 'Good luck with that'.

According to Zoe, they had tried to fight her lady's son when he first was announced to them, and five minutes later every single hunter was on the ground in pain. The cane he constantly walked around with was entirely for show, and apparently pretty sturdy as it was used to bludgeon most of the hunters into pain filled agony. That and landing a blow on him was difficult because of the insane speeds he moved at. Arrows shot at him never came close to landing, and in one case he caught one and stabbed it into the shooters shoulder.

He later apologized and commented on how that was the first fight he had been in that wasn't to the death.

But despite all this the daughter of Zeus felt the need to challenge him and prove her worth. Her ego demanded it.

And right now she was wishing her ego would burn in the lowest depths of Tartarus.

"You can stop any time." The soft melancholic voice of Galahad spoke from across the training area. A gathering had occurred to watch the fight take place as the other hunters wanted to see how long Thalia could last.

From the looks of it, not much longer.

The daughter of Zeus painted in exhaustion and pain as she was covered in bruises from that stupid cane of his. What made the beating worse in her mind was that Galahad was showing no signs of concern or effort. She was a child of Zeus dammit! She was a force to be reckoned with and she would show it!

With an angry roar Thalia shot a lightning bolt from her spear toward the Hunter, who side stepped out of the way, and charged forward, shield and spear in hand.

"You get upset quickly." Galahad commented as he dodged and weaved through her spear strikes. Despite his attempted advise, Galahad's comment only enraged Thalia more as she covered her spear in electricity to increase her speed and damage. Not deterred by this in the slightest due to familiarity, Galahad simply picked up the dodging pace as the two became blurs of movement.

Thalia's blue electric color merged with the black trench coat of Galahad as the speed of their fight escalated. The Hunters of Artemis seeing their sister getting the closest anyone had ever gotten to hitting The Good Hunter began to cheer Thalia on.

Invigorated by her fellow hunters cheering her on Thalia became ever more determined to hit Galahad as she started to add more force and intent behind her strikes. Seeing Galahad move to the left to avoid a stab she attempted to finally hit The Good Hunter as she swiped back with all the electricity focused on the tip.

The ground exploded in sparks of lightning as the blow missed, with Galahad completely vanishing from view. A sharp point was pushed slightly into her back as Thalia realized that her opponent somehow managed to get behind her. She had lost.

"You did well." The complement did little to cheer Thalia up as she became disgruntled at her inability to beat Galahad.

"Indeed, thou fair far better than most. Thy should be proud." Zoe's praise caught Thalia by surprise as she figured she would have been criticized for not beating a boy.

"I lost. Hades I didn't even land a hit. How is that something to be proud about?" Thalia mumbled.

"You should be proud because from the stories I've heard about my son's nightly adventures, no one has ever come close to hitting him." Artemis spoke as she appeared from behind the gathered crowd. Galahad gave a courtly to his mother and sisters as he backed away from the group.

Thalia was aware of what "nightly adventures" Galahad partook in. All of the Hunters of Artemis were. But it was a very well enforced rule in the camp to not ask about them.

Ever.

The lost details of their protector and pseudo brother's missions were not something they were interested in hearing. No matter how telling of Galahad's real nature they may be.

xxxxxXXXXXXXXxxxxxx

"I shall take my leave if I am no longer needed." Galahad spoke to his mother. In truth he just didn't do well in large groups of conversation…...or people really. Even in his mother's camp with his family. Never mind the Olympians that took interest in him.

He remembered when Apollo tried taking him to a nightclub in the large city of New York to, as he put it, " to show my nephew how to pick up some hot babes".

Galahad still questioned why anyone would carry infants into such a loud and obnoxious place filled with drunkards but decided best not to ask. Needless to say the amount of intoxicated people dancing like they were experiencing a seizure or attempting to forincate on the dance floor was reason enough for Galahad to immediately leave.

On his way out a man whose pants were far lower on his body that Galahad was comfortable with bumped into him and thanks to his intoxicated idiocy, presumed he want to quarrel. At least that's what Galahad had pieced together after the fact. The man kept asking if he wanted to 'go' and seeing as that was his intention he answered yes. The moron attempted to hit him, and thus had every bone in both of his arms broken, and his mouth missing all the teeth on the left side.

It was then his uncle decided it was best to leave before the local constable showed up.

Ever since Galahad had avoided the large cities, save for New Orleans. The cities architecture and tone reminded him of Yharnam enough for him to tolerate the people there. Though the music known as jazz was also very nice.

"A moment Galahad, I need to talk to you. Alone." Artemis said as she looked at her son with a stern gaze. Nodding He followed his mom passed his sisters and into her tent. He didn't know if it was sad or not that him and his mom rarely talked. On one hand she was his mother, and genuinely cared about his well being. On the other, he was….well he was him.

"What's been going on recently? I can handle the…...brutality of how you fight, but now there are talks of you taking the bodies of some demigods. What are you doing? Do you know how scared everyone is of you? Not just the demigods siding with Kronos, but even people on our side are scared of you. They fear what they don't know, and you go to great lengths to keep anyone, even me, from getting to know you." The tone Artemis spoke in made Galahad realize this was serious issue for her.

"My intentions with the deceased is purely scientific. I found out that the ichor in the various demigods blood changes how it acts. You could understand my interest with the that subject, no? As for people fearing me….I don't care. I am who I am, and I'm not about to change to ease the nerves of children pretending to be warriors." Galahad answered the the question. He did not care at all how disturbed people would be of him. If they had any semblance of what had transpired in his life they would know why he was like this.

But they didn't, and for the sake of their sanity he would keep them in the dark.

"...I understand _how_ that interests you, but you have to understand that you are messing with something that a lot of people deem sacred. The exhumation of corpses for their blood is sickening to most. Me included." His mother responded in a very serious tone. She did not approve.

"To me the petty squabbles and ill deserved acts of "revenge" that the Olympians and demigods partake in are evidence of a lack of maturity on all parties. I will admit some offences can not be forgiven, but ruining a woman's life because she was brought into a temple by your advisary? She was not the one at fault, yet she received the punishment. You spoke of Olympian justice when you introduced me to Olympus, I have yet to see anything from them resembling the word justice. The sole reason I align myself with you is because you're family. So you expressing a concern about how I operate holds almost no value to me. I accept that you are disturbed by my actions, but they will not change. Not for you, and not for anyone else." Galahad retorted in his usual soft monotone voice.

He saw his mother's eyes sadden when he brought up the faults of their family, yet harden at his refusal to change his ways.

"You know it is not considered wise to back talk your mother, especially when she is a god?"

"Attempting to threaten me with some form of divine curse or punishment is futile. What I have become prevents me from a permanent death." Artemis's eyes widened drastically at that.

"What!?"

"When someone enters the Hunter's Dream, any death they receive simply puts them there to return back to the world for another run. I still dream, yet I am also the host of the Hunter's Dream. I have died a hundred times, I can die a million more and yet still be damned to walk to the world. Immortals here may die by fading from existence, but I have no such privilege. I could bring another into the Dream and hope they eventually gain the power to kill me there, but that would mean passing on this curse to another. Something I refuse to do." Galahad explained.

His mom looked at him with confusion, not surprisingly. Finding out your only son is also immortal yet in a different manner other than godhood is quite the revelation.

"Now if you may excuse me, I wish to leave." This time Artemis waved him off as she tried to come to terms with what she was told.

As Galahad departed in the spiral cloud of the cosmos, he had to admit to himself that telling his mother about the nature of the Dream was foolish. It would only serve to gain the Olympians ire as they had another Immortal to deal with, one that was alien to them in many ways.

That lack of knowing would lead to fear.

And fear lead to panic.


	4. Chapter 4: Camp Half Blood

_I don't own either PJO or Bloodborne_

Acceptance. Acceptance was never humanity's strongest point. People tend to fear what they don't understand which ultimately leads into a stigma forming. Whether it be other people, new ideas, new cultures, or simply slight change humanity has its barbaric moments of refusal to understand what they don't know, or to change their pre established stigmas on the topic.

If one were to ask Galahad about his views on acceptance they would find that he was one of the most open people around. Then again his views on reality and on the way the world works really don't give much room for being closed minded.

That and the few moral lessons of Chivalry instilled by his knight of a father before his murder, and the subsequent views by the assassins that raised him all combined into making a very strange moral grey he resides in.

A defender of people's rights, yet a mass murderer. Protects and helps the weak, yet uses brutal fear tactics to scare his enemies into submission. Non judgmental on people's views, yet ultimately a moral nihilist.

Yet when it came to accepting that he was being relocated to Camp Half Blood, Galahad took it with a grain of salt.

It was not a choice Galahad made willingly, in fact if he had his way he never would have set foot inside the camp's borders. But alas his mother went and complained to Zeus that she felt he was becoming too disconnected to humanity and that time spent among his fellow demigods would do him some good. She said that she feared him falling even further down that path and begin to murder indiscriminately.

And so Zeus, unable to refuse his daughter, issued that Galahad were to stay in Artemis's cabin until the Olympians felt he was in no jeopardy of killing those who did not deserve it.

Galahad was quite furious about the decree but you would never tell as he kept his cold face up. Though the last part of Zeus's decree made him laugh. He didn't figure the people he had killed deserved it, but since they were his enemies he responded the only way he knew how.

The monsters and Titans aside, the rest of Kronos's army was just children and gods wanting the recognition the deserved, and to not play second fiddle to the Olympians. He could respect that, but respect or not, they were aligned with Kronos and therefore they must die.

Galahad had gathered his belonging from the Dream and placed them into the storage chest located there. It was odd that the chest could seemingly an infinite amount of items, yet for moving purposes that worked out great.

Stepping out of the cosmic swirl that signaled his arrival Galahad was greeted at the entrance of the camp by a Centaur. If memory served him correctly this was Chiron, the ancient hero trainer. Though for him the horseman was more likely to serve as a prison guard and attempt to prevent him from leaving.

There was literally no way he could stop Galahad from doing so in any way, shape, or form but the idea of someone policing him was aggravating.

"Ah, Mr. Jager, welcome to Camp Half Blood." Chiron greeted warmly. At least he was civil, Galahad had heard from one of his sisters that a few years back a man named Tantalus was in charge, stating that he was a cruel and vile person.

In Galahad's mind it was a shame he missed him, it would have made for a nice introduction to rip out the supervisor that people hate's throat in front of everyone.

"Thank you for the greeting, however we both know why I'm here so can we not act like everything's normal?" Galahad responded in his usual cold tone as he approached Chiron. The hero trainer's smile fell as he then looked at the hunter with sadness.

"It's a dark day when I am instructed to watch over a potential hero who has fallen as far as you have. I've trained many heroes over the centuries and have seen your type before. Cold and uncaring to the world around, so that killing is the only thing you know. Hopefully your time among others like yourself will be a positive influence on you." Chiron spoke.

"I do not see myself as a hero. Far from it in fact. Alas people like me, and the other heroes you taught are needed. We let the more traditional heroes beat the bad guy and take the glory, while making sure that the enemy is crippled in every way possible to make that outcome easier. If that means we are labled as psychos and murderers, so be it." Galahad responded.

"You can help the "traditional" hero in other ways than the murder of misguided people. You don't have to be outcasted by your fellow man simply because you feel that your way is the only way. I'm very aware of what you do Galahad, the brutality and cruelty that you attack with. To monsters that's fine, they are evil by their very nature. But to the demigods that have been persuaded by The Crooked One? You've made yourself out as the "monstrous tool of Olympus oppression" that the Titans use to get more followers. Yes you have instilled great fear into the enemy, but you've also done the same to your allies and given the Titans something to rally people against. The Good Hunter, mass murderer of Olympus." Chiron replied with some frustration in his voice.

"I'm unsure if you were made aware of my upbringing, if not let me inform you. My father was murdered by his fellows and I was taken in by a guild of assassins at a young age. Having formerly been instructed on the code of Chivalry and the morals of knights I questioned the man who had come to act as a father figure, whom I was also never given a name to prevent attachment, on why they killed who they killed. This was his response, "We do not determine the guilty. We do not decide the punishment. We are merely the cold instruments of vengeance. There is no form of death unknown to use; no form of terror beyond our means. We are the blade that hovers over the enemy's throat, the bullet that awaits their skull, the poison at their throats." That was the mindset I was accustomed for the longest time. The one that replaced it while just as dark has the intentions of good in it, and that is what I am. The tragic darkness and ill intent required for the light to succeed."

The air was filled with silence as the two refused to compromise their views on Galahad's methods. Campers that were in earshot gazed on in interest as it was rare to see someone back talk to Chiron, and even rarer to have that person's philosophy be as dark as the new arrivals.

"Well I'm sorry you think that way. But enough of this talk, I will show you around the camp." Chiron motioned for Galahad to follow him as he gave a tour.

The campers that saw Galahad with the large chest on his shoulder would mumble and whisper to each other, gossiping over the newbie.

They thought themselves discreet yet their whispers were picked up by Galahad's superior senses.

"What's with the new guy? Looks like he came from a historical reenactment."

"Why does he have a chest? Ever hear of suitcases?"

"He looks kinda cute, maybe we can get a better look later."

"Hey Annabeth, is that….."

"Oh Di Immortales it is! Why is he hear!?"

Well at least the blonde girl he had meet a while ago remembered him, so there was one person he knew here. There was also that Peter kid or whatever his name was. He didn't care to remember it as he figured they would never meet again.

As Chiron concluded the tour of the camp, which was fairly decent if nothing else, they came to a cabin made from silver adorned with etchings of wild animals. Mostly stags though. He didn't need to be told that this was his mother's cabin, as A. It was quite apparent from the decor, and B. He could feel this sense of belonging near it.

"And here we are at cabin 8. You know I never would have thought anyone aside from the Hunters would bunk here, nevermind a son of Artemis." Chiron spoke as he stared at Galahad, awaiting a response, maybe even a comment on that matter. He never got one as Galahad walked into the cabin and gave a polite bow before closing the door.

xxxXXXXXXXXxxx

The cabin was, for the most part, exactly what Galahad would have expected. A large hunting lodge that made liberal use of silver. The bedding, walls, and floor were all silver with mounted animal heads and pelts lining the wall. The room was mostly devoid of any sign of inhabitants, for good reason. The only other people to set foot in this place aside from Galahad were his sisters.

Seeing as he was now the sole inhabitant Galahad picked a random bunk to set his things down by. As he did so a large cardboard box appeared in a flash of golden light in front of the bunk with a note attached. Grabbing the note Galahad sighed as it was from his eccentric uncle.

 _Hey Nephew!,_

 _Heard you were being rehabbed at the camp, tough luck man. But don't worry your favorite uncle has you covered on the things you will need to fit in. I had to pull some strings but I was able to get Hermes and Dite to throw in some stuff as well, since the whole 'psychotic silent mass killer' thing you got going on is kinda creeping us out. Anyways inside this here box you will find more modern clothing, very fashionable, Herm got you some actual legal documentation, so congrats on being a U.S citizen, and finally I sent you some must have pop culture tools. Books, movies, comics you name it! Can't have you being ignorant about all the trends of today! Any who, hope things go well and please don't murder anyone, especially my kids otherwise I might get really displeased._

 _Sincerely, your cool uncle Apollo_

Galahad sighed as he put the note down and opened the box. Sure enough it was filled with clothing, the thing called dvds, books ranging from fairy tales to epics, and a folder containing legal documentation. Well he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

After unpacking everything from the box, Galahad began to take inventory on his chest, counting the bullets, knives, elixirs, and other items out of habit. He would have done so for the rest of the day had someone not knocked on his door.

Opening it he was greeted with the sight of a rather tall woman with a bulky build, she had dark beady-looking eyes and short raggedly cut pale brown hair. The sneer on her face was accompanied by a scar on her chin which would probably seem threatening to a normal person.

"So you're the new guy huh? Never figured that a maiden goddess would have a son, but it doesn't make a difference to me. You see we have an initiation around here, and it's your lucky day." The girl spoke with a tone of arrogance. Judging from the nearby onlookers expressions when the 'initiation' was brought up, it was not a pleasant one. From behind the girl he could see the blonde he had met months ago hastily run towards the two, concern very apparent on her face.

"CLARISSE DON'T!" She yelled as she ran up to the two. Clarisse, as she was apparently named, turned towards the smaller girl with an annoyed expression.

"What is it Annabeth? I'm busy if you can't see." Clarisse said in a very aggravated tone.

"I'm trying to save you. I know you have your stupid initiation, but not him. Just, avoid him at all costs." Annabeth warned. Clarisse laughed at that and gave a cocky smirk.

"What, Jackson not enough for you, trying to move in on some new meat? Listen blonde, rules are rules, he's got to take a swirl."

"Wha-what!? No, nothing like that! And look you, as well as many others here may not know who he is, but I do. Hades, my entire cabin does, the things he's done… Just don't, he might kill you." Annabeth tried to explain.

Athena had immediately informed all of her children about Galahad's arrival and under no circumstance were they to aggravate, piss off, or otherwise vex the Son of Artemis or else they may meet a swift end.

"He doesn't look that tough, and I can take care of myself thank you very much. Now if you excuse me, I have business to attend to." Clarisse turned back to the cabin only to find Galahad had since closed the door and gone back inside. Blinking owlishly a few times in startlement at being ignored, Clarisse then grew really pissed at being blown off and decided to voice this.

"HEY! I'M NOT DONE WITH YOU ASSHOLE! GET OUT HERE!" She yelled while banging on the door. She continues to pound on the silver door despite Annabeth's constant pleas to stop until she saw the handle turn.

Reaching forcefully into the cabin she grabbed the coat of Galahad and yanked him outside and got right in his face. Angry brown eyes meet lifeless silver as she reared her fist back to give the new guy a classic knuckle sandwich.

However the click of metal meeting metal coming from below stopped her. It was very similar sound, one that did not take long for the daughter of Ares to recognize. Looking down she came face to face with a very ornate flintlock pistol with the hammer pulled back.

"Please let go." The monotone voice of Galahad combined with a gun at her head left very little room for Clarisse to argue. Letting go of his coat Clarisse stared daggers at Galahad as she backed away slowly.

"This isn't over, you hear." She threatened.

"Yes it is." Once again, he was telling her this, not asking. Galahad watched as Clarisse stormed off towards some ugly looking cabin with shoby red paint and a boar's head on it. Honestly the varying fashions and styles of the cabins were making him miss the uniform gothic architecture of Yharnam. He imagined if anyone had OCD here this place would be a living nightmare.

"You have a gun? Since when do you have a gun?" Annabeth asked as she let out a breathe from not seeing Clarisse's brains get splattered. In all the reports her mother kept from Galahad's "hunts" he never showed any use of firearms. A weird sword-bow and his cane were the main tools he used, on top of bizarre magics her mom was looking into.

"I have several. Granted two are cannons and one is a gatling gun."

"...Why?" She knew she would regret asking.

"Why do you have a weapon? To kill monsters." Galahad responded while putting Evelyn away. He had seen the firearms of this world and had thought about augmenting them to fire the Quicksilver bullets he used, but had yet to find a means to do so. Couldn't exactly ask someone to modify a gun to fire blood coated bullets now a days. Shame really. Though maybe he could persuade one of the demigods at Hephaestus cabin.

"...Fair enough. Look it's almost dinner time, why don't you get changed into something not quite as…...attention grabbing." Annabeth suggested as she made reference to his Victorian clothing.

"Fine." Galahad turned back into his cabin and closed the door, leaving Annabeth standing by herself outside of Artemis's cabin, looking at the door. To the demigods not in the know of their new arrival, it seemed she had gone insane.

xxxXXXXXXXXxxx

Annabeth's mind was racing at a million miles per minute as she ran through all of the possible questions she could ask Galahad without the risk of him ripping her throat out. Where was he from? How did he acquire his abilities? Why the extensive fear tactics? Why was it oddly soothing to stand around him despite everything in your head telling you to run?

The last one was the most puzzling as the reputation Artemis's only son had amassed would make you think he was what a stealthy child of Ares who went bat shit would be yet standing in front of him was very different.

He was polite, blunt to a fault, but polite. And despite the general unnervingness about the dead silver eyes, the tone they had could change. She had seen them hold amounts of care in them when he cured Zoe of Ladon's poison, another question to ask, and promise death when he challenged Clarisse's stare. Point was, he was an enigma to everyone, even his own family, and she wanted to know more about him.

Hearing the door open Annabeth snapped her head up to see how Galahad looked in something that was not a concealing Victorian garb and tricorn hat. Afterall, she had only ever been able to make out his face from the nose up.

The answer was horrifying.

Now, she would admit he was an attractive looking guy. His short auburn hair and silver eyes did make his face look like his mother's, and he was quite in shape with a defined muscle tone. But the scars. Hades, so many scars. If he stood still she could mistake him for a corpse.

He had come out in the orange camp shirt, blue jeans, and brown work boots, so she could only see his face and arms, but that was enough. The strange thing was, the injuries to give him this should have left him a torn up mess, yet his body was intact despite this. It was like the injuries just sat on his skin.

His jaw had three deep claw marks on the right side, going down to the neck and further past the shirt and onto his chest. Both arms had wounds suggesting slicing, burning, electrocution, bludgeoning, gunshots, and claw marks. She couldn't stop staring at him as she began to try and rationalize how he still had use of his limbs.

"The back and chest are the worst, or so I'm told." Galahad's voice brought her back to reality as she looked at The Good Hunter now as not some horror film slasher who seemed impervious to damage, but as a demigod who has taken their fair share of damage.

"How?" Annabeth managed to get out as Galahad walked passed her towards the pavilion.

"Got hit a few times. Not here, back home." He responded.

"...What do you mean by worse?" Annabeth asked, genuinely wondering how it could be worse than that.

"Exactly that. Though, it was mother and Zoe who saw, so maybe they were more repulsed by the fact they walked in on me shirtless." Galahad wondered as he recalled being startled by the two very loud yells they gave. Never figured either for obscenities but they both had very colorful language.

"Zoe saw you shirtless?" Annabeth immediately changed the topic when thinking about how the normally prudish Zoe would react to seeing her brother shirtless.

"Yes, and both questioned me relentlessly for several hours. Apparently having my heart ripped out is startling."

"Like in the romantic breakup way?" Annabeth really hoped Galahad just had a bad break up as opposed to-

"No I have had my heart literally ripped out around 7 times. Each one left a scar." As opposed to that.

"How are you alive?" Annabeth questioned as the two finally came to the dining pavilion. The cries and sounds of people noticing the scars as well filled the air as some of Apollo's cabin rushed for medical supplies. Galahad faced her and gave a sly smile, somehow more unsettling than his normal apathy ridden face. He put his finger up to his mouth and responded.

"Shhhh, don't ask questions you don't want to know the answer to, it might lead down a path you aren't ready for."


	5. Chapter 5: The Lord of Hollows

_Disclaimer: I don't own either PJO or Bloodborne, or Darks Souls_

Dionysus was a very amused god at the moment.

To anyone who resided at Camp Half Blood they knew this was rare, as the god despised his job in overlooking the camp. In fact he despised it almost as much as he despised the heroes that resided in the camp. But today he was a happy Olympian.

Why? Because the Olympians gave him a gift they didn't even know he wanted. A gift he looked forward to meeting ever since he caught a glimpse of it all those months ago.

That gift was Artemis's only child, Galahad Jager.

The Son of Artemis was such a welcome treat in Dionysus's opinion. He was such a far change to the standard "heroes" he was used to dealing with. In fact one could argue a very strong case that Galahad was worse than many of the demigods and monsters on Kronos's side. The kid was a bloodthirsty, anti-social, murder machine with no remorse for his actions. It made the god smile with pride.

He may not have been the one to make the demigod insane, but he could appreciate a great work of art when he saw one.

He had sent one of the campers, some girl from Aphrodite's cabin, to retrieve Galahad from the medical cabin, not questioning why he was there, and bring him to the Big House. He wanted to talk with the boy one on one to see what all went on up in the Good Hunter's mind. Dionysus was quite excited for it too. Maybe he could talk Galahad into reenacting some Friday the 13th scenes on some of the undesirables in camp!

So there Dionysus sat, waiting for the arrival of his favorite new camper. He would not have to wait long as the sound of the door opening and solid footsteps rang out over the building. Galahad rounded the corner into the office with his arms completely covered by white bandages.

That was not the only new thing about him Dionysus noted though, in fact it was the least interesting and question raising. Dionysus had only seen Galahad once before, and at the time he wore a dark attire that prevented most of his body from being visible. However Dionysus figured that what he saw now was not par for the course. Otherwise Artemis, or any of the Olympians that sent him out on his "Hunts", would have brought up.

The Hunter's skin tone was a sickly grey, similar to that of stereotypical aliens from mortal science fiction. The silver of his iris now consumed Galahad's entire eyes, glowing eerily while doing so. His body was had a more unnatural shape to it as his entire body was elongated and hunched over. The way he moved had changed as well, with Galahad twitching every so often and having an elongated purple tongue that he occasionally ran along his lip. The appearance of a quiet and withdrawn victorian hunter was replaced with a strange alien being.

Dionysus was intrigued to say the least. Not that he would let that be known. Favorite camper or not, he had an appearance to keep up.

"I see we've decided to change our looks. However, I should note that people try and get prettier when they do so, not uglier." Dionysus quipped as he sipped from his Diet Coke. The smile that came from Galahad showed rows of shark like teeth that accompompaned a manic amusement in his eyes, or whatever the hell emotion that was being demonstrated by Galahad was. Dionysus now wanted to make it a poster to terrify small children.

"Ah, so you can see me more for what I am than everyone else? Tell me, what do you see?" Galahad's once montone and eerie voice now held a manic, echoey, tone that possessed an oddly soothing charm to, not unlike the one put out be Hestia, but foreign enough to not have the same effect. The God of Wine was now very intrigued.

"Like one of those grey aliens from those cheesy sci-fi movies the mortals made back in the day. I must say, if you were to show up in the city like this, you might be arrested for public disturbance." Dionysus again poked fun at Galahad's appearance. The Good Hunter's laugh carried through the Big House and would have driven any sane individual out of the building for fear of their life.

However, no one in the building at the time was sane.

"Shame. Even you can't see the real me, though you did better than anyone else here. Must be a fun thing to know." Galahad sat down across from the wine god and stared him down with a psychotic smile. He should've guessed the God of Madness would at least be able to see part of who he was, but sadly he saw only traces of Kin and not of the Old Ones. But he had time to educate him, just like he would Annabeth.

"The real you? You mean you're aren't just a knife wielding psychopath? Don't tell me you're one of them….what are they called...oh yeah, bronies?" Dionysus said as he took a sip refusing to let his interest show. Galahad's eyes blinked as he thought about what was said.

"I don't know what that is."

"Then count yourself among the most fortunate, because it's truly a horrific sight. Though not as bad as you. Speaking of, what is with the wrappings?" Galahad looked at his arm bandages he was given as to stop the more severe scars from bleeding. It was very amusing to see the child of Apollo that was on duty in the medical cabin to struggle with stopping the more severe scars from bleeding.

"Scars." He responded.

"Oh? Didn't know you had any, huh." Dionysus took a sip in contemplation.

"I don't." Galahad admitted with a sinister grin. The god raised his eyebrow in confusion as he gestured for the alien man to continue.

Galahad removed the bandages carefully as he revealed injury free arms. Dionysus could see the veins in his arms had some black and white glowing substance flowing through them, adding more the alien nature of the demigod across from him.

"The poor fools outside and my family at their camp can only see so much. They take their ability to see through the Mist for granted, not realizing that the world hides so much more from them. I project an image of what I was onto them, showing the injuries I would have sustained from my experiences to gain their sympathy. After all it's much easier to manipulate the sympathetic isn't it?" Galahad inquired to the god with a smile and a head tilt. Dionysus wondered if he prefered the more Hannibal Lecter vibe Galahad originally had or the new Joker like one.

"Indeed it is, though may I ask why? You hardly seem to be the scheming sort. Plan how you're going to murder them brutally sure, but not go full supervillain." This conversation was even better than Dionysus had hoped for.

"My reasons are entirely benevolent. Isn't it considered a nice thing to want to teach people? The more they feel bad for me, the more they listen. Annabeth is a good example, I've already started to play little mind games with her. Gradually she will see past the scars, past the human form, and into the truth of her world. And then? Well that's her decision."

"Has it occurred to you that you're a psychopath?" Dionysus asked. He mostly meant it rhetorically but the Son of Artemis answered anyways.

"Has it occurred to you that I don't care?" Galahad responded.

"Just making sure. Well Gilgamesh, this has been a fun conversation, but you should run along now. Got campers to mind fuck and all that jazz don't you?" Dionysus began to dismiss Galahad as horse hooves could be heard outside the room.

"Mr. D, must I remind you on the policy regarding foul language?" Chiron reprimanded as he looked into the office. Galahad's presence was slightly surprising, but given who was in charge of the camp the centaur shouldn't have been shocked.

"Ah, Mr. Jager, I see Michael got you some bandages that you've chosen to disregard wearing." He commented on Galahad's arms. While definitely not the worst scaring he had ever seen, the fact that it was on a teenager, and one who had a image of invulnerability surrounding him did make Chiron remind himself on the dangers of their world. That death could take anyone of his campers when they set out on quests.

"Mr. D wished to observe my scars." The monotone voice accompanied by they lifeless stare once more unnerved the hero trainer as he couldn't help but feel that something was being hidden from him. Dionysus reaction to what was said only added to that suspicion.

"Hmm, that was an offly homicidal thing to say, does your little gift extend to your words to?" There was nothing homicidal about what Galahad said in Chiron's mind

"Indeed. Now if you would excuse me, Doll is requesting me back home. I shall be back before tomorrow." Galahad stood, gave a courteous bow, and disappeared in a swirl of the cosmos as Dionysus made a mental note to make more amoral individuals in the world. They were clearly the best kind of people.

xxxxXXXXXXXxxxx

Emerging from the swirl of stars Galahad dawned his normal Hunter attire and sought out Doll in the Hunter's Dream. She had sent a letter via the Messengers to him during his chat with Mr. D, something she never did before. It was odd in Galahad's mind.

Finding her at the base of the oak tree next to Gherman's grave he saw parts of the grass burned, with ash and embers lying all around the charred dead grass. Heavy imprints in the soil told Galahad someone of heavy weight stood in the Dream with fire raging all around.

There was a lingering smell of death in the air, three particular scents to be exact. One, oddly enough, held a scent of perfume, another had the scent of burning corpse, the last held a strong scent of decay.

"Doll, what did you need? Who was here?" Galahad asked cautiously. The Doll meant the world to him, he would do anything to bring her happiness and to make sure she was safe. If she sent for him, it must be urgent. If the three entities threatened her….

"Oh, greetings Good Hunter, a man of fire and two women came to visit you but alas you were not here. He asked me to pass on a message. One of the ladies also expresses a compliment in your workshop, saying it held a quant feeling." Or maybe the Doll was totally fine, just had a weird sense of priorities. Easing his feelings of suspicion Galahad began to run through a list of people who knew of this place, yet were associated with fire.

"...If it was an Olympian, they should have thought about that before sending me away."

"It was not one of the gods, yet the man resembled the description of the sun god, yet covered in flames and cinder. He was dressed like a knight and introduced himself as a lord. He asks that you meet him in Central Park as he has news pertaining to you." The Doll informed with a smile. Galahad may have held an outlook of pessimism and a secret loathing of most people, but the care and loving nature of the Doll always softened his cold nature.

She only ever looked out for his best interest and did everything in her power to aid him. As thanks, Galahad sought to return the favor, showing her human emotions and kindness.

"Thank you Doll. Though next time, wait for me to show up on my own before relaying a message. I thought something may have happened to you." The Doll gave a surprised look and offered a small smile.

"I did not mean to alarm you. But thank you for you care." She gave a low bow as she walked off to attend to the other graves.

With a faint smile Galahad went into his workshop and withdrew armed Simon's Bowblade and his Holy Moonlight Sword. Evelyn was always on his person, as well as his more subtle and minor tools (throwing knives, molotovs, rocks, antidotes, blood vials, etc) and as such he prepared for whatever situation this meeting may end in.

With one last goodbye to the Doll, Galahad teleported to the outskirts of Central Park, loathing the fact he had to enter the big city

xxxxxxXXXXXXxxxxxxx

Galahad would admit one thing, he was not expecting to have the entire park sectioned off by the police department. It seemed that the mortals took notice of the flaming corpse, or that their brains just comprehended that it was a threat of some kind. But even then, why such a large reaction?

Usually the Mist would try and correct such a thing right away, but not this time.

Seeing one of the television news broadcasters, a concept that seemed decent in theory yet had issues in practice, nearby, he used his enhanced senses to pick up what was being said.

"...We are live just outside of Central Park where police have made a perimeter that encompasses the whole park while SWAT arrives. This incident began just around an hour ago as three unknown persons carried medieval weapons into the park. When approached by an officer, one of the assailants cut him down. His partner ran in for support, but it is suspected that he is dead as well. Witnesses called 911 and for the first 20 minutes any officer who entered the park did not return. None of the officers have responded to radio calls, and are assumed to be missing, possibly captured in the Park." The man said towards the camera.

Seeing little point in waiting Galahad snuck passed the crowd of people and passed the barricade. Being a fairly skilled hunter and assassin, it was not a difficult task to do. Neither was picking up the trail of corpses left by the three people.

All of the bodies had been either dismembered by a sword, or burned alive by fire, but there was one common trait amongst all of them. The officers had fired their weapons at some point during the event. Either taking initiative and attempting to kill the three, or possibly out of defense of not wanting to be stabbed.

Moving through the park, Galahad picked up a blood trail that lead off into a nearby bush. He could hear the struggled breathing of a cop as he tried to stay alive. Walking towards the bush he and the officer made eye contact before the cop drew his gun on him.

"Oh god there's a fifth….stay back or I will shoot!" Galahad didn't dignify that with a response as he stared at the officer. But the revelation of a fourth member to the group was appreciated.

Though it now occurred to him carrying a large sword into a police quarantine may lead the authorities to believe he is with their targets. Oh well.

Galahad was about to speak to the cop but a mystic energy ripped the life from the officer before he could. Looking toward the source he saw a female figure clad in all black with an ornate metallic helmet that reminded him of the Cainhurst Knights, and armed with a katana hilt with a blade that tried to hide itself from being seen. Unfortunately for it, Galahad was not fooled.

The woman regarded Galahad for a moment before sheathing her sword.

"Are thee Galahad, Son of Artemis?" The woman asked.

"I am."

"Greetings, I am Yuria of Londor. My Lord awaits thee by the pond." The woman gave a cordial bow and gestured for Galahad to follow. The Good Hunter toyed with the idea of simply putting an arrow or bullet in her head, however seeing as these people went to some length to meet him, he should at the very least be polite.

Yuria lead him to towards the body of water in Central Park, passing more dead officers along the way. Galahad could smell the scents of the two others who were in the Hunter's Dream as well as a third one who did not reek of death.

Approaching the trail that went around the pond Galahad could see in the distance a flaming corpse adorned with silver plate mail armor sat upon a bench looking over a section of the pond that had been frozen over as another corpse clad in armor, though different from the silver one, skated on the ice.

A pale boy with messy hair, dressed in mostly black aside from an aviator jacket, stood by the sitting corpse. His eyes held nothing but contempt as he tried to murder Galahad with his eyes, though he would be better fit to do so with the large onyx great sword on his back.

Yuria approached the bench and knelt down before the decayed, charring, corpse.

"My Lord, I present thee Galahad, Son of Artemis." The boy clenched his fist in obvious disdain. The burning corpse stood to a rather impressive near 7ft height that was well hidden as he sat. Burning orange eyes of the undead stared straight into Galahad's silver, neither one losing any ground in the silent stare off.

Hearing the sounds of metal moving told Galahad the second armored undead was coming off the ice as it walked passed him and stood next to the large corpse.

"Hail, Galahad, Son of Artemis. You have already met my steward Yuria of Londor. This is my wife Anri of Astora, and the boy over there is my newly acquired ward, Nico Di Angelo, Son of Hades." The large undead spoken with a regal tone that held a considerable amount of power behind it. Galahad, thanking his early life for training when dealing with nobility, gave a courtly nod to each as they were introduced, two returned the nod, one did not.

"I take it you are the one who sought out for me? Well then, here I am." Galahad returned to staring down the undead.

"Indeed I am, allow me to introduce myself. I am Sir Perceval Chasseur, Usurper of Fire and Lord of Hollows."

"Well met, Lord of Hollows. Now if I may be forward, why is this meeting happening? Least of all in a park with dead mortals all around." Galahad inquired.

"I have been tasked by Hades to end your life." The air changed from one of slight suspicion to a far more sinister one as Galahad began to reach for his Bowblade.

"And why, pray tell, would Hades require my death?" Galahad asked as he gripped the handle.

"YOU LET MY SISTER DIE!" Nico yelled out in anger. Perceval raised his hand to tell Nico to be quite. The Son of Hades looked ready to protest but a quick stare down resulted in the boy looking away.

"I apologize for his outburst, but the boy speaks the truth. The death of Bianca Di Angelo is why you must die." The Lord of Hollows said.

"I do not interfere unless summoned, that is the arrangement among The Hunters and me. Zoe did not ring the bell when at the junkyard thus, Bianca's death is not my failure. Besides, was it not her that stole from the infernal place? She was aware of what would happen." Galahad rebutted as Nico drew his onyx greatsword. The Son of Hades shot forwards but was grabbed by his teacher.

"I gave my word to your father that I would teach you so you could take your revenge, however you are not ready now. Stories alone indicate that you would be dead long before you knew it if you chose to fight Galahad at the present. For now we are speaking amicably, so both parties are aware of what will happen." Nico's anger did not quell as he glared daggers at the Son of Artemis.

Galahad had since drew his sword and awaited for the boy to make his move. It was obvious to him that Perceval simply wished to talk, however the actions of his ward would lead the conversation into conflict.

"I will gut you!" Nico spat at The Good Hunter.

"Better than you have tried." Galahad shot back in monotone.

"If you insist upon this foolish action, I will not stop you." Perceval said to Nico. He looked over to Galahad and addressed him.

"I ask you do not kill the boy, I, as well as his father, will be rather displeased if you do." With that he released Nico who shot towards Galahad with a jumping overhead swing.

The Good Hunter easily side stepped the boy who swung again and again with large unwieldy swings. Nico was still clearly new to fighting and had a sword that he was meant to grow into as opposed to start off with.

Nico's anger rose as he failed to connect any strikes against the person he blamed the most most for his sister's death. If he had stepped in like he should have, she would still be alive and with him. He wouldn't be alone, left with only the dead to keep him company.

In his anger he activated his blades special power, it's weapon art. Black fire engulfed the sword as he took more and more large swings with the heavy sword at the cause of his anger and suffering. That may have been a lie he told himself, but it was one he was committed to at the moment.

The blades weight was starting to wear on Nico as he fought for a solid 5 minutes, Galahad simply stepping out of the way every time. It infuriated Nico to no end. With one last burst of energy Nico raised the flaming blade for one last overhead swing, smashing the earth in the process.

Fire consumed his vision as he looked for Galahad's ideally charred body, but he didn't see anything, not even Galahad.

The click from behind was Nico's only clue something was wrong but it was too late as a bullet shot through his back and out his chest. He dropped to the ground in pure agony, blood pooling from his body.

"He'll live. If he get's medical attention." The damned voice of Galahad spoke from behind him. Shot in the back, of course that's how "The Good Hunter" would beat him.

The metallic clang of boots approaching meant one of his allies was approaching Nico, maybe they would help him kill Galahad tonight, as opposed to Perceval's insistence on a meeting first. He didn't know why the undead was so set upon talking to Galahad, and only that, but his father put the Lord of Hollows in charge of him so he couldn't argue.

Galahad watched as Perceval held out his hand as a golden light consumed Nico and healed the wound from his gun. The large knight helped his ward to his feet and handed him his sword.

"You are not ready. Yuria and Anri are taking you home." Nico opened his mouth to argue, but was stopped by the glare from the undead. Anri wrapped her arm around Nico and lead him with Yuria through a shadow portal to, presumably, the Underworld.

Now just Perceval and Galahad remained in the park. The Good Hunter switched his sword into bow mode and aimed at the undead. The Lord of Hollows raised his hand and shook his head.

"I have no taste for violence tonight. After all, we both have eternity to kill each other don't we?" He asked Galahad. The Hunter of Hunters did not lower his bow, but did raise an eyebrow at the knowledge of his immortality.

"How do you know of that?"

"Hades gave me access to shadows to spy upon you to best determine when to strike. I saw your talk with Artemis, and we share a similar fate and circumstance." The undead sat back down on the bench.

"How do you figure that?" Galahad asked, bow still raised.

"We are both strangers in a stranger land. Both immortals, bound to live forever. We are both named after knights and share the name the last name of hunter. There are two key differences between us though. I come from a world of magic, demons, and dragons, you from one of science, and other worldly entities. The most ironic though? You represent the moon, I the sun." Perceval pulled out a strange grey stone and crushed it in his hand. Gone then was the decayed corpse, replaced by a splitting image of his Uncle, down to the golden sun like eyes.

"You are a child of Apollo." Galahad noted.

"I am. So….cousin, how does an eternal game of murder sound?" The now mid twenties looking Lord asked him.

"Sounds like we should get started." With that Galahad released the arrow and shot it throught his cous


	6. Chapter 6: Ripples in Fate

_Disclaimer: I don't own PJO, Bloodborne, or Dark Souls_

 _AN: Sorry about the length, I have the worst migraine but I wanted to get a chapter out_.

It was rather unfortunate that the mortal SWAT chose to arrive on scene at the time Galahad had shot The Lord of Hollows, initiating the first point in their immortal killing game. 25 officers swarmed the area around the park bench while still keeping a safe distance from the Good Hunter.

Whatever The Mist made them see was giving them pause on outright opening fire on Galahad as he surveyed them from his spot. While not noticeable to an untrained eye, the Son of Artemis had a small smile on his face as he quite excited at the prospect of duking it out with one similar to him. The fact that it was his cousin and came from a world near polar opposite to his was an added bonus.

The laser sights attached to the mortals firearms all beamed in on him as they began to shout for him to drop his bow to the ground and get on his knees. He would be doing nothing of the sort.

But lucky for them, he was feeling generous now. There would be no taking of their blood, or them losing their lives tonight. Oh no, Galahad was going to share his glee with the new audience that arrived.

And what better way to share that joy then by turning their worlds upside down? Granting them insight to what their reality actually was. There was nothing that could compare in Galahad's mind.

And so Galahad Jager shed the facade that was his human form, going into what he had become as a result of the Great Old Ones blood in his veins.

A purple cosmic cloud, like that of a nebula, shot out and around the officers as they all tensed and prepared to fire. They never got the chance though.

Madness consumed them as they laid their eyes upon what could only be described as a thing that shouldn't exist.

A towering Eldritch being with dark purple skin, sicking grey fur and a mass of tendrils forming some kind of skeletal wings emanating from its back came into view. It's face was like a deer only that it had 30 bulging, globe-like, eyes of silver on its face. Black antlers twisted together above it's head, intertwining at places and ending off in two very sharp points. The creature sat on two hooved hind legs with six arms all armed with swords of various size and shapes. The jaw of the monstrosity split open violently revealing rows of shark like teeth as a low tone emitted from its mouth.

The tone rang inside the heads of all those that now were trapped by the creatures cloud. Knowledge of gods, aliens, demigods, and other such fantasies filled the heads of the officers as a lot of them dropped their weapons and clasped their heads.

Many tried to claw out their eyes to reach their brains in order to end the sheer amount of information entering their heads. Others saw their fellows now as monstrous beasts and began to open fire on the new horrors. The worst of them though were the ones who were driven into a frenzied madness, opting to put their sidearms in their mouths and pull the trigger. The fools did not appreciate the gift they were receiving.

Galahad looked down at the creatures that he had once been with solemn. It was always sad when people couldn't handle the answers to life's biggest questions, even sadder when those answers made them turn on one another.

But there was hope. A lone officer sat on the ground rocking back and forth, scratching the side of his head, laughing derangedly to himself.

It all made sense to him now. How could he have been so blind before? Of course things like gods and monsters would exist, why wouldn't they? And this alien, this being from beyond? It had given him the answers. It had showed him the way to enlightenment. He had to ask this being if their was more! More to learn, to see, and to know. He had to ask.

"HAHAHAHAHA, Of course! Why hadn't I seen it sooner? Tell me Great One, is there more? There has to be more!" He yelled as he rocked on his knees. The Great One flew over towards him with a flap of its wings and the celestial deer head looked down at him. No one but him would be able to understand that it was smiling at him. No, they would all scream at the sight of this, for they couldn't understand the true nature of what they were seeing. That or they would all kill themselves from viewing such beauty as his fellows had.

The creature spoke again, though this time instead of knowledge he received something else.

It was an image, a horizontal line with 10 lines pointing vertically down and another three line going vertically up. To most this would just be a series of lines, but he knew what it meant.

It was its language, the word for "Lake". With the rune of this word branded into his head the officer could feel his body grow more resilient and durable, like it could take any punishment and still be fine.

"..T-Thank you." He managed to get out. The Great Old One let out another tone, telling him what he was to do next. He was to spread the word. The other fools would take him away and deem him insane, but he knew the truth now. He would spread the word about what reality really was, so that others like him could experience this joy.

The swirling mist that mimicked the cosmos began to return to his new master as it was returning to it's own world, it's Dream.

After it was gone, and with it the feeling of joy that the officer had, he was left alone in the park. Craving for more to fill the empty void that he now had in him. Looking above the Empire State Building he saw to home of the gods, Olympus.

Laughter again consumed him as a new set of SWAT arrived on scene and was horrified at what they saw. Of course they would be scared, the ignorant fools. They were not there to bask in the glory that was the Great Ones.

He was hauled away by paramedics as he tried so desperately to tell them what they needed to know. About the gods, about the titans, about Old Ones, but he was ignored. Dismissed as a victim of a biochemical attack.

He would show them, he would show them all. They would see the truth, whether they wanted to or not.

xxxXXXXxxx

Nico di Angelo was livid when he returned to the Underworld. He had shook off Anri's hand and stormed away to be on his own.

He had been ready to fight Galahad. He had a powerful weapon and the tutelage of a great knight. Yet he still failed.

Why? Why did the Fates conspire to make him suffer more than he already had? It wasn't fair!

As Nico found a spot in a far away pocket of his father's palace, he sat in silent, brooding, contemplation. He was trying to think of a way to kill The Good Hunter, yet every way he thought up would involve confronting Galahad, something that would result in Nico dying like tonight nearly did. But he would not be deterred! Galahad would suffer for not saving Bianca, rules or not.

The sounds of a flaming portal opening, and then the clanging of metal boots told Nico the Perceval had returned. His much larger teacher sat down beside him, still easily towering over the boy.

"Perhaps a greatsword is not best suited for you." The Undead joked as he tried to break the ice.

"No, really? Here I thought I was doing great with it. Heck with oh...twenty more years of practice I may be able to hit his coat." Nico spat sarcastically.

"Sarcasm is unbecoming of you. Morbid comments sure, but not sarcasm."

"Bite me."

"Hey now don't be too upset. I let him kill me this time, so that next time we meet I'll have to make sure I get a point. Wouldn't want the score to become 2-0." Again the Lord of Hollows tried to ease the tension in the room. Again it wasn't very successful.

"Oh great, he even killed my teacher. How am I supposed to kill him if you can't?"

"Hahahaha, Oh I let him kill me. Professional courtesy and all that. But don't assume for a second this means that he is better than me. After all I have far more tricks up my sleeve than even his eyes could see. Speaking of tricks, I figured since the Onyx Greatsword wasn't a good fit that we try something else." Nico looked over as The Lord of Hollows drew out a massive scythe and the handle of another missing it's blade.

"These belonged to a woman named Sister Friede, she used both with extreme elegance and deadly powers. I figure since you're the son of Hades, this might be more of an at home weapon for you. That and if you master it, you're speed in battle may eventually be enough that hitting Galahad will no longer be an issue." Nico took the weapons, handing over his old one, and eyed the massive scythe and the handle.

Channeling some energy through the blade, like he had been taught to, Nico's eye widened as a blade made of ice formed on the handle, granting him two weapons.

"Friede would even coat the weapons in Blackfire, though we will hold off on that till you are ready. In the meantime go see Yuria, she will begin your instructions." Nico looked up at the undead lord in confusion.

"What are you doing?"

"Ah, I have business elsewhere. An undead is forgotten and alone, I tend to rectify that." Percival stated as sheathed the Onyx blade with one hand.

"...Isn't that dad's job?" The Lord of Hollows shook his head.

"Hades has forgotten about this one, as well as Lady Persephone. I am Lord of the undead that are forgotten about, worthless, or otherwise unwanted. I take my duty to my subjects very seriously, and if this one is alone I shall offer it companionship." Nico nodded in understanding as he left to find Yuria. Percival sat out into the Underworld, determined to find and aid this undead.

Ending up in the farthest reaches of the Underworld, Percival knew the undead was close. Not just due to a gut feeling, but because the ghosts of all the deaths he regretted, as well as many others, were floating around him. He did not regret killing them, he regretted the reasons around them having to die.

The Lords of Cinder were there, as had they done their duty he could have rested for eternity, yet he was required to end each of them.

Sister Friede was there, as she sought only to escape from the cycle of flames by retreating into a painted world. A decision that cost her her life. Her death was unnecessary, but had served Percival well.

Finally, the ghosts of his family in life, as it was his failing to light the fires the first time around that resulted in everything going to shit.

While he regretted the deaths, Percival placed little value in trying to commune with the ghosts. What was done was done, nothing more to it than that. Hell. most of their souls now served him as weapons and spells, so in fact they were far more useful in death than in undeath/life.

"Why are you here undead? Shouldn't you be licking my father's boots or attending to that illegitimate son of his?" A female voice rang out amongst the ghosts.

"I am here because you need help." He answered honestly. The voice let out a laugh, though it was like nails on a chalkboard as the ghosts parted.

"Oh I need help do I?" The owner of the voice was revealed to be a woman with her left half hard and dark like a mummy, and her right sickly pale. She wore a yellow dress and golden shaw, her eyes were black voids staring at the Lord of Hallows.

This was Melinoe, Goddess of Ghosts and Daughter of Hades and Persephone.

"You do. You are alone out here, with only the ghosts to keep you company." While many would be intimated by the Goddess, Percival was not. Undead he may be, but his Usurpation of the First Flame made him something far more powerful than any undead. Afterall, he had stolen the gods power, not only that but beat all those who had previously linked the Fire. What was one Goddess to that?

Melione glared at the undead that called her out. Loath as she was to admit, she was very alone out here. Neither of her parents wanted her, and her father brought in a demigod son as opposed to her. His legitimate daughter.

"Leave undead. This is your last warning." She threatened.

"You don't have to be alone, Melione. The undead I rule are filled with people who were alone, outcasts, and unwanted. I know what it's like to be pushed to the side as nothing." The goddess responded by sending a bolt of energy at Percival, completely obliterating him.

Seeing that the undead was gone Melione turned to be by herself again. What would he know anyways?

"I understand that you're mad. But I can help." The Lord of Hollows voice came back as Melione whipped around to see him reforming from the ashes. The damn man had a soft smile on his face with burning eyes that showed nothing but acceptance towards her. She wouldn't have it.

"I said, go away!" She cried out as he blasted him again. But just like before he simply returned from the ashes, cinder and fire emitting from all around him.

"You can try and push me away, but I will just keep coming back."

"GO AWAY!" She yelled as she again thought to destroy the Lord of Hollows. Why was he making such an effort for her?

"I can do this all day." He informed with a smile.

For the next few hours Melione would blast the Usurper of Fire as he would simply reform and offer her friendship and a home. Each time she blasted him, and each time he would return, she would feel more and more of the emotional dam she had built crumbling. Here was someone not rejecting her, not ignoring her, not judging her. He just wanted her to be happy.

"WHY!? WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS!?" She cried out with one final blast before tears started to flow. Melione looked through teary eyes as the undead reformed once again in front of her with a warm smile.

"I am doing this because you are alone, forgotten, pushed aside like all of the undead I rule over. I simply offer kinship." Percival said as he looked at the tearful goddess. Sure she had killed him over 50 times thus far, but death was very meaningless to him. Besides if those deaths meant that she would accept his offer, than they were well worth it.

"...My own mother and father want nothing to do with me. Why should I believe the words of some undead king from another world?" She asked sadly.

"If it is of any comfort, I am a child of Apollo, it makes lying rather difficult."

"Huh…...wouldn't have figured you for one of his children."

"Looks can be deceiving. But I hold little value on my parentage, or even my agreement with Hades. What matters to me is that my people, people like you, are offered the home and companionship they deserve."

"But….why?"

"I am the Lord of Hollows, that's all the reason I need."

Melione stared long and hard at the burning corpse in front of her. Millions of thoughts racing through her head as she debated on accepting the offer, one she had desperately wanted from her parents. Looking down and sighing the Goddess looked back up to the Lord of Hollows and nodded.

The smile he gave her reminded her of Apollo's with its brightness as he offered her his hand and took her to Londor, the land of Hollows.

xxxXXXXxxx

When Annabeth woke up in the morning the last thing she expected to hear about was an apparent terrorist attack in Central Park.

But there she was, gathered with her siblings as the watched on one of their laptops screens about the attack. The only survivor was a single SWAT officer who was driven mad, though what he was saying was concerning to all the children of Athena.

He was calling out about seeing Olympus, and how he now knew what the world was. It was the ravings of a mad man, but ravings that still had merit. While her sibling theorized among themselves on how this was possible, Annabeth had a very good idea on who could have done this.

Rushing out of the cabin she ran over to Artemis's cabin and began knocking on the door. When Galahad opened the door she began to grill him.

"Where were you last night?"

"Out." Was his one word response.

"So, did you hear what happened in Central Park."

"No I didn't hear what happened." This was true, he had been there during the event and as such didn't know what was said afterwards.

"Well apparently someone release a chemical bomb that drove a lot of people to committing suicide, the only survivor knows a lot more than a mortal should as well." She informed him in a tone like he was being talked down to.

"Ah. Well that's not true, there are 4 other survivors, though three are undead so I guess only one."

"So you were there!" She exclaimed.

"Yes."

"You killed all those mortals?"

"No they killed themselves. Shame too, they could have learned so much." Annabeth tilted her head and raised her eyebrow.

"What do you mean? What could they have learned?"

"To see through all the veils this world puts in front of them. To have The Mist no longer obstruct their view and to finally understand their reality." Galahad informed. Annabeth's mind seemed to rush at the prospect of seeing through The Mist, though apparently the cause was severe. Maybe it was just because they were mortals? She was a child of Athena, such wisdom and insight would be easy for her.

"Can you show me? Just a little though." She asked. If it was indeed madness inducing then maybe she could handle a small amount and work from there. Galahad actually smiled at her as he leaned in and stared her right in the eyes.

The soothing feel he always emitted was the only thing keeping Annabeth from pulling away as her mind began to burn as some symbol burned itself into her brain. Closing her eyes, Annabeth saw some strange anti-clockwise rotated cross.

The word "Metamorphosis" in some strange and bizarre language filled her mind as she could feel her stamina growing with that word.

Opening her eyes with several blinks, Annabeth noticed Galahad had changed in appearance.

There were no more scars on his skin, there was not even a trace of them being there in the first place. Looking at the Son of Artemis with wide eyes she could see the amusement in his eyes as she started to question what she thought she knew about him.

It was a real tragedy that if she was to fully understand the nature of the being in front her it would demand all of her sanity. Then again, the hubris of Athena was present in her children, so maybe Annabeth foolishly thought she could learn of the Great Old Ones and remain unaffected?

Only time would tell.


End file.
